Bandana Man
by Majin Buub
Summary: A Pan/Juunanagou 17 fic.


**Bandana Man.**

Son Pan_ & _Juunanagou _(Android 17)_

- Prologue

- Chapter oo

The sunlight shone through the window of his cabin in the woods, barely making its way past the trees. A human lay next to him, her arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close. Her chestnut brown hair was sprawled against his cold, pale chest. He moved his arms from their grip and he stretched them up, hoping to wake the sleeping beauty. Well, she wasn't that beautiful. Small nose, green eyes, squared face, pale skin, long hair. Maybe she was, by human standards. But by Android 17's, she was nothing. Her features were dazzling, although there was one thing that bothered him: her hair.

Yes, it was her hair. It was too long. He had a thing for short hair. Besides, it got in the way of nearly everything, whether it be fighting or doing the deed. 17 grew to be a very, very picky person when it came to having sex and who it was with. He was restless the previous night, craving for a woman's gentle touch. She was drunk enough; he was getting tired of searching, so he decided to take her home. To his home. He was rather shocked when she didn't try to resist going into a small house in the woods, dislocated from society and alone with a man who picked her up at a club. Then again, she was drunk. Even if she wasn't, who could blame her? 17 were far more than aware of his good looks and charm. He could lure anybody into bed with just a wink of an eye and a couple of cheesy flirting lines.

Her body beneath him shifted and he snapped out of his thoughts. Simple thoughts, ones of what he was going to do today, who he would meet, where he would go, the usual things that ran through an androids mind on a daily basis. He could cross 'who he would meet' out of the way- he had his fill for the week, maybe even the month. 17 weren't introverted, no, he just preferred being alone without the company of others. That left him two main choices: what he was going to do and where he would go. That was somewhat easy. Almost every day he would go out hunting or he would relax at home, lazing around and watching television or reading a book. On occasions he would visit his sister and her family, see how they were doing. He would always be hidden, just watching.

It wasn't fair to him how she could get a second chance and he had to be left alone, not saying he didn't enjoy his given solitude. It was just… she did the same things as him, terrorized the same people, destroyed the same towns. The only reason she got redemption - as he saw it - was because of that bald monk and his obvious feelings for her. If someone had feelings for him, would he be redeemed? If the slightest blush appeared on someone's face, would he have been given a second chance? The only exception he dared let slide was that he was the first to be absorbed by Cell. That's the only one. 18 still could've gone looking for him after he was brought back, but she didn't. Where did she go? Probably with the little bald man who spared her.

Probably.

A sneeze and another shift jabbed him in the side and his eyes widened the teensiest bit. The low, sultry voice of the woman in his arms spoke up, moving out of her position and sitting up. "Good morning, Juunanagou ~" When did they exchange names? He had no memory of that ever happening. So how did she know? His eyes scoured the loose room, hoping for a hint on her knowledge of him. His ice blue orbs landed on a jean jacket, one with his name spelled out on it._ Good_, he thought to himself,_ I have a way to cover up._ He said that his name wasn't really Juunanagou, and that it was Hiitachen, the jacket was a friend's.

17 looked over to her and raised an eyebrow, a chuckle leaving his thin lips at her scowling expression. "I said, Good morning, Juunanagou." An eye roll from him. A scoff from her. Finally after an intense stare down that lasted for six minutes before she blinked, he responded to her: "I heard you the first time." She scoffed again and rolled her eyes, throwing her legs over the bed and standing up. He admired her figure and smirked softly to himself. _She_ _has a nice body, maybe I'll get her number and call her again sometime_. Ah, did she have to turn around? Her face wasn't the prettiest sight, no sirree buster! Freckles and pores were splattered about. He liked skin that was clear, smooth without any markings, like his own.

Such a shame, he could've used her more than once. No one ever fit his high standards. In a careful thought, they weren't that high. Only just a teensy bit above the normal scale. He wasn't normal, so it was his plain excuse.

Pale skin was the prettiest to him. Milky white, his favorite. Black was a pretty color for eyes, wasn't it? Or dark brown, either one. It didn't matter. The contrast of black and white was a magnificent sight and even someone like him could see it. He sighed and watched the girl dress, placing his hands behind his neck and breathing in and out, not like he needed to. 17 didn't have to breathe, and he didn't want to, but this girl was human and if she caught him not doing humanly things she would be asking questions he wouldn't answer.

That or he'd kill her.

No, no he wouldn't do that. That would bring up too much suspicion, albeit her being just a girl from SatanCity. He stopped his murderous doings a while back and decided to hunt animals instead. Hunting animals was nothing close to the pleasure of doing the same to humans, but it was close enough. His last murder was when he killed the man that owned this cabin. He was old, graying, almost to his end anyway. Why not end his suffering and give him an early death? And that he did.

"Are you leaving now?" he asked, reopening his eyes and gazing at the sight in front of him. She faked a gasp and looked at him. "You're talking to me?" Her voice was high pitched and squeaky, and it made his right eye twitch slightly. He closed his eyes and shook his head, ignoring her. He took note that she was a scoffer and that was probably all she ever did, nothing more, nothing less. That was annoying. Shrugging, he got up and out of the bed and slipped on the cotton boxers he wore the night before when he picked up the brunette and lusted her into his bedroom. He didn't even bat an eye once the door slammed and she was out.

Pity, he didn't get to serve her breakfast.

At least he was a gentleman to his one night stands, unlike some other men.

His hand rubbed the side of his face as he exited the room, making no noises against the hardwood floor. Peeking at himself in the mirror in the long hallway, he noticed his hair was nothing too messy and that it was socially acceptable by his own law. He could go out and hunt without having to play with his hair. There was not anything that could stop him from just sliding on a shirt, shoes and jeans and walking out of the cabin with a gun in hand.

No one would see him. No one would notice him. They'd just think he was some crazy man with a gun hunting game for his dogs or something. A dog would be nice. Or a cat. Some type of animal to take care of and come home to. He loved the solitude and the peace and quiet, but living by yourself – in the woods, mind you, with no contact whatsoever with the outside world except for a television that only broadcasted the news channel – did get quite boring from time to time. His one night stands would turn into 'girlfriends' that came to see him once in a blue moon. They never lasted. He never wanted them to. She was either too preppy or too nice.

Or he just got bored with them.

Subconsciously (he would call it that anyway, since he wasn't sure if he even had a conscience), 17 was still breathing. He stopped and put on a slim-fitting black shirt, hovering over the whole entire house in search for some pants. Grunting in satisfaction as he spotted a pair of pleated jeans, he grabbed them quickly and slid them on. They weren't his favorite, but they were the only things in sight. The orange bandana he owned was stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans as a 'good luck' charm. Not that he needed the luck. He was a natural at hunting. He sighed and grabbed his shoes by the door, putting those on as well. Normally he would go for the competition, but he was a bit tired. If androids could even get tired, for that matter. Well, maybe he wasn't tired, just not in the mood for it. Yes, that's it! Not in the mood for it. He stood again and placed the rifle under his arms, opening the poor and rigid door that lead entrance and exit to the cabin. He began to 'scan' the area, looking for easy game that wouldn't be hard to catch. The woods were spacious but tight at the same time. It gave him a sense of closure and serene that no other land would give.

He cocked his gun and walked forward, the prey in set and on lockdown. His footsteps made no noise, but the deer was alert. Its small head and its beady eyes seemed like they were bearing into his. 17 knew that he only had a limit of time before the small animal fled the scene, so he got into position, and fired.

It was sloppily done. Unprepared. Restless. Careless. All of those things. He wasn't even trying. Nevertheless, the deer feel to its doom and collapsed on the forest floor. A mischievous gleam was caught in the androids' eyes. He winked to himself and stalked towards it, still making no noise. Right when he was about to pick it up and take it back, he heard voices. They weren't so far away. Maybe a hundred meters… north? And they sounded up in the air. Two people. Flying. Talking like there was no tomorrow. A girl and a boy. The girl was obviously a child and the boy was probably in his late teens or mid-teens. They were talking about a martial arts tournament that they had went to days before. Martial arts tournaments didn't interest him, so he ignored their conversation.

Until they landed some few feet in front of him.

Luckily he was hidden behind a tree, and they couldn't sense his ki. If they could fly, then they knew how to do all whole shitload of other stuff. They didn't stand a chance against him anyway. He shifted so he could see them, or the male, at least. He wasn't surprised to see the raggedy haircut and teenage clothes, but he was surprised to see that he had a face identical to Son Goku. He was aware that Son had a son, but that one – Gohan – looked nothing like his father, more like his mother if anything. Keeping his cool, 17 watched them, noticing that the young man was beginning to _fight _the little girl. They bore a resemblance as well, but by her ki, 17 figured she wasn't Son's child. A grandchild, probably.

Wait, had it really been _that _long? If Son had a grandchild, then that meant that Gohan was a father. That scrawny teenager clearly wasn't a dad yet. He scoffed to himself, narrowing his eyes and switching his leaning stance from his right leg to his left leg, causing the bandana to fall unknowingly out of his pocket. Not long after he got tired of seeing the two and their playing, so he walked back to his cabin. The old man's old cabin.

Unknowingly.

Just as unknowingly as the girl when she picked up the fallen orange cloth and stuffed it in her gi before her uncle noticed.

_******_** A/N**

_[.-._

_yeah_

_omg this sucks I'll try to update stuff_

_later on_

_yeah_

_bye]_


End file.
